Awake

Awake. The written word awoke in me as a stood there on the first step of the end of our corridor, looking at the distant – 2 meter away- space by the bottom of the shoe cupboard. I wanted to write it down, this feeling of being home that came to me then at 5:30 something am. In the quiet of the morning light I remembered how my brother was preparing shifting through this same space I was looking through. Getting ready for his valentines day dance, with red and grey nike shoe, he walked to and from his room to the bathroom mirror, fixing his color, his tie – red- slung over this his shoulder round his neck. That smell of his deodorant, of being home.

The TV woke me and I went to switch it off, my brother lying on the sofa asleep. He must of come back some time that night. I motioned to turn it off, but I saw images of ‘dumpster diving’ and heard talk of freegans. In Australia. Reminded so much of Alex Barnard who was a Freegan at Princeton. I asked him, I remember one day at Butler Dinning Hall, whether he considered going to the dinning halls at 7:59, just before they throw the stuff into the pig bucket. He said , if I recall rightly, that he would look into it. I was doing that, eating at the last possible moment, often it was lunch at Rocky dinning hall, till one day that old lady at the card swipe machine had enough. Enough said about that. Freeganism, I don’t think it can work in Namibia, because frankly, little goes to waste here and if it does, it’s inedible. In spite of globalization, we are not industrialized and wasteful to that extent. At least stores aren’t. Selling old bananas and garlic, I see it all the time.